


Docked at Shore (Anchor Keeps Me Ground)

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (as in nastiest flavor possible for scott but fluffy marshmallows for stiles?), Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Bittersweet, Captain Derek Hale, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor dirty talk, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, POV Outsider, Scott Finds Out, Secret Relationship, Suffering Scott, ish, werewolf pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 10:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10717380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: As punishment for trying to tell Stiles that he's been bit, Scott expects torture.He doesn't expect to instead be brought to Captain Hale's cabin door and forced to listen in. He definitely doesn't expect to hear Stiles' to be the one behind it.





	Docked at Shore (Anchor Keeps Me Ground)

**Author's Note:**

> I......... have nobody to blame this on? I was reading pirate aus and?
> 
> check the bottom for notes about the tags
> 
> *sets this down gently and books it*

                It’s worth it. No matter what happens, no matter what they do, no matter what his _punishment_ turns out to be, Scott knows it’s all going to be worth it. There’s nothing in the world he wouldn’t put up with, suffer through, over this.

 

                Stiles needs to know, and Scott needs to be able to tell him. No matter what they’ve threatened him with, it’s not going to be anything compared to the relief of when he finally can spill his soul and just tell him everything. Tell him about the way Peter _bit_ him before Hale got the chance to skewer him with his own blade and dig his claws into his neck. Tell him that even though they aren’t kept in the brig like some kind of prisoners, or _hostages_ , that he still doesn’t trust these people. Tell him that he doesn’t trust Captain Hale most of all. Tell him the way Hale _looks_ at Stiles, like he wants to keep him, doesn’t want to let them off on the next port like he’s promised.

 

                He doesn’t know what Stiles would even do with that kind of information, but he knows he’d do something. He knows that they don’t keep secrets, that they tell each other everything they think important, or just enough to warrant conversation. He knows that Stiles is planning something, that when he’s got it all put together Scott will be the first to know. He knows that Stiles needs these details to alter whatever it is he’s thinking, on how he expects to get them back home when one of them is now a _werewolf_.

 

                A werewolf who’s running away from the only pack and Alpha he’s ever been around.

 

                This is why Stiles needs to know. He’ll know what to do, how to work around it, how to make do. This is why Scott needs to tell him, and this is why what they do won’t matter in the end because – it’s worth it.

 

                At least, that’s what he thought it was until he realized that Stiles is up, out of bed and not where he’s supposed to be, too. He can hear his voice through the thick door he’s shoved in front of (not close enough to be heard if he somehow makes noise – he’s gagged and held in place by stronger, more controlled ‘weres than he – but close enough to see, for his own ears to tune in. He scrambles to focus on what Stiles is saying over than the ringing in his ears and pounding in his chest, but the sudden fear for his friend and overwhelming guilt over putting Stiles in the position making it hard to register anything other than the same thought recycling itself over and over: _Stiles, I’m so sorry. It’s not worth it anymore, Stiles. Stiles, Stiles, Stiles._

 

                Though only barely, he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat through the door, along with another’s that he doesn’t recognize (he only knows Stiles’, because it’s the only constant, the only one he’s cared enough to focus on), but it’s just as it should be, fast, but not beating _too_ quickly, somewhat of an average for his best friend. He isn’t scared, or hurt, which comforts Scott, even if that’s only just for now.

 

                No one else is saying anything. He doesn’t know if that’s because they don’t want Stiles and whoever’s in there to overhear them, or if they’re torturing Scott more with having the ability to hear the exchange ever so clearly and without distractions. Still, they haven’t even weakened their grips on him in the least, which is unfortunate, because his struggles only increase upon finding out that he was meant to watch and listen rather than be dealt himself.

 

                His fangs drop, slicing through the cloth of the gag, and he chews at it to shred it into pieces. Hope flairs briefly inside his chest, and he takes in a breath to say something, he doesn’t know, anything, but when he opens his mouth, a strong hand grips his jaw and jerks it up, _hard_. Hard enough that his teeth clank together and he winces, but he cannot make a sound. Whoever the hand belongs to stands above him and snorts at his attempt, but Scott doesn’t bother even looking up to take in the person holding him down. He slumps into his position on his knees, no longer fighting, and keeps his eyes on the door where, as if on cue, there’s a thump against the wood, like something heavy was thrown at it, or someone just slammed against it and –

 

                “ _Someone’s_ in a hurry,” comes Stiles’ voice through the wood, but it’s… off. It isn’t angry, there’s no lace of bitterness through it. Instead, it’s only amusement and something else Scott can’t place, and immediately Scott worries even more, because of _course_ Stiles would be the man to antagonize his torturers, the kind of person who warrants himself more pain because he can’t keep his mouth shut. Scott’s not surprised, but he doesn’t think he has the capacity to be anything but fearful for how this is going to turn out.

 

                _It’s not worth it at all_.

 

                If only he had written it down on a piece of paper before ripping it up and tossing it overboard or something. If only he had simply blurted it all out before anyone could stop him, so Stiles knew and they couldn’t do anything about that. If only he hadn’t had started the conversation with a hushed whisper of, _there’s something important I gotta tell you_ , when he had a whole ship of _werewolf pirates_ threatening him into attempted silence.

 

                He shouldn’t have risked it – not when he should have known they’d use Stiles against him.

 

                The other person speaks and upon recognizing their voice, Scott’s stomach drops to the floor because – “I don’t know why you sound so shocked.” The tone is strange, a kind of _pleased_ edge to it that Scott’s never heard in it before, and it makes him even sicker.

 

                – because _fuck_.

 

                That’s Captain Hale in there with him.

 

                There’s a noise that Scott can’t quite place, a gasp maybe, or something like it, and he jolts at the thought of it already starting. Stiles’ heartbeat doesn’t jump, not really, but it begins to thump a little faster, rising like wave. Scott can’t imagine what’s about to go down, what’s in there with them, causing his heart to beat like that. Before he can try to think it out further, Stiles is saying, “Not shocked. Just wondering why I’m _here_ ,” there’s another thump against the door, and Scott thinks Stiles must have hit it with his fist or something, which at least means he has control over his limbs – for now. “Instead of, y’know, the _bed_.”

 

                Bed?

 

                Why would they torture him on a bed? They wouldn’t… they might torture, but they wouldn’t… go _that_ far, would they? And fuck, they wanted Scott to _listen_? Those sick fucking _bastards_.

 

                Why does Stiles sound so familiar with it? Do they do this to him regularly?

 

                His stomach churns.

 

                “Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Hale purrs in a low voice, but not quite low enough that it can escape Scott’s horrified ears. He shudders, grimacing, and one of the crew members holding him here tightens their grip. There’s a creak of movement in the wood and Hale’s continuing with, “You like it when I hold you down, pin you against things.” There’s that sound again, and Scott’s worried it’s the sound of Stiles letting out involuntary puffs of air.

 

                “Might fuck you against a wall someday.”

 

                _No._

 

                Stiles starts to say something, but it’s cut off by what sounds like the rustling of clothes and his breath catching. Scott can’t even move his jaw enough to grind his teeth together to cover the noise. And then it’s, “ _Yes_.”

 

                _What?_

 

                Unbeknownst to Scott’s confusion, to the stutter of bewilderment in his chest, Stiles forges on, “Yes. Yes, that should definitely be a thing. That. Happens. Yes.”

 

                All of a sudden, it clicks together and well, Scott’s not stupid.

 

                He knew something had been going on with his friend, but he just thought it was the whole _we’re on a boat surrounded by werewolves we don’t know and we can’t get off yet_ , and planning on how to escape if something goes wrong. Maybe he would have caught on earlier if he wasn’t preoccupied with the whole lycanthropy thing, but.

 

                But. Scott knows, kind of. He knows that of everyone else here, Stiles trusts Captain Hale the most. He knows that he thinks just because Hale saved him during the chaos when no one else bothered and Scott couldn’t, just because he turned his back on a visible blade to push Stiles behind him, that’s he’s somehow trustworthy. He probably thinks that Hale only even took Peter’s power instead of letting someone else do it because of Stiles, too, but Scott isn’t so sure himself about that one.

 

                They barely even know the guy. They barely even know him and yet, Scott wouldn’t dare stay in a room with just the two of them and _apparently_ , Stiles would not only _seek that out_ , but _enjoy_ it too.

 

                What happened to no secrets between them?

 

                What happened to _it’s just you and me, Scotty, we’re all we’ve got, we need to trust each other_?

 

                What happened to the Stiles he knew? That wouldn’t sleep with a pirate, wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t act like –

 

                “Little faster, Der – _oh_. Yeah, yeah, like that.”

 

                Der. As in, _Derek_. Stiles is not only enjoying this – this thing with the enemy, with a pirate, with a pirate _captain_ , but he’s on first name basis with him too. And it seems it’s been going on long enough that _Derek_ doesn’t care, in fact, it seems he likes it, if the groan that follows Stiles’ words is anything to go by.

 

                And, of course, “Say it again.”

 

                Scott squeezes his eyes shut, but it doesn’t block out any of the noises or words, of the stupid breathless tone Stiles’ voice takes when it replies back in question with, “Faster?”

 

                “Say my name,” Hale clarifies, and he doesn’t even sound annoyed. He sounds what Scott, for the life of him and the dinner in his stomach, hopes isn’t fondness or full of care. If he could open his mouth enough to puke, Scott probably would, and Hale only helps this with, “Who do you belong to?”

 

                “Oh,” Scott hates how distracted Stiles sounds. He hates that he can tell Stiles likes it, that he’s comfortable with it. It’s no doubt better than Stiles not, than him being _forced_ , but he still hates it. And he hates the way Stiles’ voice rises higher, obviously to please, for Hale, when he moans, “ _Derek_.”

 

                The wood creaks again and then Stiles is making a choked out gasping sound. Scott is so fucking glad he cannot see what brought it on. “Name and title,” Hale adds on.

 

                Without even the slightest second of hesitation, Stiles complies, “Captain Derek Hale.”

 

                It hits hard. That, as if asked, without skipping a beat, Stiles would answer that he’s Hale’s. That he belongs to him. That, or he knows just how to please Hale and say what he wants to hear, and Scott doesn’t want to think over which is worse.

 

                There’s a shaky inhale, and Stiles must obviously take that as a sign to say it again. “’M yours, Captain Derek Hale.”

 

                There’s the sound of movement, again of clothes shuffling, and when another lewd noise comes out of Stiles’ mouth, it’s muffled by more than just the door. It’s louder than the others have been, however, and Scott cringes. He knows without out a doubt that he won’t be able to look Stiles in the eyes for a long while – him or Hale. He knows that there’s no way he’s going to be able to unhear those sounds and each time he sees the two of them in the same vicinity as each other, that’s immediately what his brain is going to go to. He knows that this is going to haunt him.

 

                It’s a horrifying punishment.

 

                He doesn’t know if it’s worth it anymore, but he doesn’t want to think about that. It isn’t like his ears or his brain are going to let him, either. No matter what’s going on, or how he tries to tune it out, it’s like the sounds of Hale and Stiles together are drilling themselves right into his skull.

 

                “Derek,” is whimpered out, just to prove this point it seems like, and it’s a shock to remember that he can’t bite his tongue out of habit and disgust, because his jaw is still held under an impossibly tight hold. “Derek, I’m going to –”

 

                _Anything but this_.

 

                No friend should have to hear his best friend orgasm. Especially not with another person. Especially not against their own will.

 

                Especially not with Captain Hale.

 

                Like before, Hale’s voice seems almost unrecognizable with the feelings that underlie it, the ones that aren’t irritation or anger or panic for once, but softer, happier, calmer. It’s alien. “You can do it,” he soothes, and there’s another thunk against the door, sounding like it came higher up than the one earlier. “Just a little more.”

 

                Scott’s still glad he doesn’t know what in particular that’s referencing, that he can’t see the scene in front of him, even if he has to hear it. Even if it’ll still burn in his brain, to never be erased and always unfortunately remembered (likely at awful, inconvenient times), it could be worse. At least it isn’t.

 

                Aside from Stiles’ small noises as he gets closer and closer to that edge he’s climbing toward, they’re quiet for the next half a minute (maybe less, maybe more, Scott can’t tell, it feels like forever and he just wants it to be over) it takes for Stiles to reach it. He comes, making a noise like the one when it was muffled earlier, but louder this time, and probably closer to a whine. Through the aftershocks of it and the heavy pounding, roaring of Stiles’ heart slowly descending, Hale murmurs little sweet nothings. Things like _there you go_ , and _I got you_ , and _look at you_.

 

                When Stiles’ breathing finally returns to something normal, his pants becoming a bit more even, Hale finally says instead, “Good boy,” which gives more of a reaction than the others had, and he chokes on something, air, spit. He focuses on letting his breathing and everything else return to normal instead of replying.

 

                That only lasts about two seconds – because, well, this is Stiles – before he’s whispering, “Kiss me, Der.” It’s obvious that Hale gives him what he wants when he lets out a little pleased hum barely a moment later.

 

                He doesn’t know which makes him sicker – the parts of this before, or the intimacy of this.

 

                Nobody has said anything else, barely even moved at all, and stayed pretty much silent. Now, they yank him up, still holding him tight, still keeping him quiet, and the movement is almost entirely soundless. He doesn’t bother struggling this time around, because really, what else are they going to do? It’s clear that this was what they wanted to him to hear, and now that it’s over, they’re taking him back to his room.

 

                Or, actually, what they wanted him to be there for is over, but the moment, Scott’s punishment is not, because Stiles, still whispering, still so relaxed, the volume of his words fading as Scott gets moved away, tells Hale, words not shaking, sure, “I think I want to stay out here. With you.”

 

                The horror and dread that fills him is much like that of having a bucket of cold water sloshed over him. With the bucket even being smacked into his head afterwards.

 

                _Stay? Here? With Hale?_

 

                Hale says something back to that, but they’re too far for him to make out what it is, and he’s almost thankful for it. While his next words, somehow more comprehensible, make the statement even more unpleasant, he knows if he heard the pillow talk of Hale’s other part, it would have been worse.

 

                “You anchor me.”

 

                He kind of hates that he can hear Hale’s heartbeat when he says it. He kind of hates the fact that it remains steady just a little more.

 

                Whoever is holding his mouth shut tight finally lets go, but he doesn’t even attempt to say anything. They don’t let go of his arms until he’s thrown into his room, falling onto his hands and knees, not caring in the slightest to look back and watch them leave. He heaves in a breath and looks around, taking in the sort of familiar setting, pausing on Stiles’ empty cot. One of the crew members that’s still there snickers when he gags.

**Author's Note:**

>  **noncon warnings** : scott has to listen against his will to stiles and derek having sex in derek's room, held down and gagged by nameless crew memebers for attempting to do something they didnt want him to
> 
> now im gonna go watch scrubs (bc its gone on may 2nd) and pretend that im a good person
> 
>  **EDIT** : alright so since it's no longer 4am and I'm not sleep deprived out of my fucking mind, I can write a little list of all the background information for this, since I don't _plan_ on writing a sequel/prequel, anything else. also, keep in mind, that if you wanna write your own spinoff/twist of this, i'd be all for it, srsly. and you don't even have to stick to these notes, they're all theoretical and things i kinda, sorta thought about when writing, but some aren't mentioned and therefore are up to change i suppose? (though you can do whatever you want creative license and all that whatever, on the v small minuscule chance anyone would like to do whatever, they can. there)
> 
> Scott and Stiles sneak onto the boat and are either a. (less likely, seeing as _werewolves_ exist here) didn't get noticed until they were already sailing, or b. (more likely) got caught by the current Captain Peter Hale and got thrown in the brig. There's a mutiny or Peter does something so shitty that a fight breaks out and through the chaos of it, Peter bites Scott, Derek saves Stiles, risks himself for this boy he barely knows, and also kills and takes the alpha power from Peter. From thenceforth, he says to refer to Peter as Peter and no longer the late Captain Hale, as HE'S Captain Hale now. 
> 
> Somewhere along the line, Scott wants to tell Stiles that he's turning, but the crew doesn't want Stiles to know about this, so they threaten him. It holds for a bit, and Stiles gets together with Derek (who has also promised to drop them off at the next port because at the time when he asked, they didn't want to become pirates) and they have a smoopy thing going on, I guess. When he goes to tell Stiles about the werewolf aspect of him, this fic happens. 
> 
> And to keep Stiles from finding out, on full moons, they take Scott into different places for the night, under the pretense of "more work" seeing as how, the two boys earn their keep on the ship. 
> 
> That's all I can remember for right now, but do with it what you will. Have a great day! Thanks for reading this far!!!


End file.
